


Eleven Waves a'rolling

by spikesgirl58



Series: The Twelve Fics of Christmas [22]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 09:46:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8974744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: Napoleon is stuck in Hawaii for Christmas and can't seem to find his Christmas spirit.  Luckily, he has Illya.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gevr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gevr/gifts).



“It’s just not right. I know right and this isn’t it.”  Napoleon crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, pursing his lips.

“Napoleon, simply because it isn’t what you are accustomed to, it does not mean it’s wrong.” Illya rolled over on the blanket and let the sun caress his back.  After two weeks of sleeping in a thin bedroll in a freezing cave, with only the smallest of fires, it felt good to be warm again. 

Occupancy at the hotel was minimal and that meant they had a great room at a great price, but the fact that it was the week of Christmas made Napoleon long for more traditional climes.

“I heard _White Christmas_ playing in the lobby this morning.  What do these people know of a white Christmas?”

“They get snow up on Mauna Loa and Kea. If you’d like, we’ll rent a vehicle and I’ll drive you up there.  You can frolic to your heart’s delight while I stay in the car.”

“What’s with you? You love the snow.”

“No, I tolerate the snow. Simply because I am accustom to it does not equate love.  I had enough snow in the past month to last me a lifetime.  There’s something about being buried in an avalanche and left for dead that hardens a man’s heart.  Besides, I don’t know what you are complaining about.  If you were in New York, there would be slush and ice, crowded stores and short tempers.”  Illya tossed the suntan lotion to him.  “Would you put some of this on my back?  I understand it’s easy to burn here.”

Napoleon sighed and sat up. He squeezed some of the coconut-scented lotion onto the palm of his hands and rubbed them together.  Then he smeared it onto Illya’s skin.  He began to rub it in, his movements less casual and more intimate.  He glanced down and then leaned closed to Illay’s ear.  “Could you grab me another towel?”

Illya Propped himself up on his elbows and reached for the towel “For your hands?”

“No, further down.”

Illya smirked and resumed his prone position. “And now you know why I rolled over before asking.”

“What are we going to do about this, Illya?”

“About what, Napoleon?”

“Us? About us?”  Napoleon retreated to the low beach chair and stared out at the Pacific Ocean.  The waves were barely lapping the shore, but in the distance, thunderheads were building.  Somehow, it seemed appropriate.

“Enjoy it as long as we can?” Illya rolled to his side and took off his sunglasses.  “We are giving very little by way of happiness in our line of work, Napoleon.  We aren’t the first or the last field agents to develop feelings for each other.  I consider this due payment for services rendered.”

“Of course, I feel that way, too, I just… well, I thought your dour Russian philosophy would have reared its head by now.”

“It did. I shot it.”

Napoleon laughed at that, his good humor restored. “So what’s the plan for this afternoon?”

“Well, I thought some lunch at the Lava Tube, then possibly a quiet afternoon in the room--”

“Quiet?”

“I shall attempt to not shout too much.” Illya replaced his glasses.  “But I promise nothing.”

“Now you’re talking.”

Illya unlocked the door to their room and stepped into the cool air. He didn’t love the heat, but it was almost worth it for moments like this.  Napoleon shut the door and he found himself pinned to the wall by Illya.  Illya’s hands and mouth were seemingly everywhere at the same time.

“I need you right now,” Illya said into Napoleon’s ear just before it was nuzzled. “I started having some delightful thoughts at the restaurant.”

“I wondered why you didn’t want dessert.”

“Oh, I want dessert, but what I crave isn’t on the menu.” He managed to get Napoleon’s shirt off and set about kissing the tanned skin.  Napoleon’s hands were busy pushing Illya’s swim trunks down, at least until they found Illya’s penis, then they had better things to do. 

“Bed, Napoleon. If you aren’t in me in the next three minutes, I won’t be responsible for me actions.”

Somehow they made it to the bed, Napoleon only pausing to snatch up a tube of lubricant and a towel. “You not too sore from this morning?”

“Are you kidding?” Illya hissed as Napoleon’s finger entered him and he arched his back.  “Oh, yes.”

“You like that?” Napoleon added a second finger, curling them just so and Illya moaned. 

“Yes, but not like this. I want you.”

“Maybe I’m not quite ready yet.” This was a lie and they both knew it.  Clear seminal fluid leaked from the tip of Napoleon’s penis to the point of where it looked as if it was drooling.  He withdrew his fingers, positioned himself and pushed, not pausing at the sound of Illya’s cry, until he was buried up to the hilt. “Is that what you wanted, partner?”

Illya’s head nodded as he started moving. It was all the encouragement Napoleon needed.  It took only a few more thrusts before stars started dancing in front of his eyes and his breath caught.  Then it was over and he was on the bed, his limbs feeling weak and rubbery.

At the sounds of Illya’s contented sighs, he reckoned his partner was in a similar state. “I don’t get it.”

“What don’t you get?” Illya asked lazily, obviously content for the moment.

“With women, I had incredible lasting ability. With you, I have a hair trigger.  I just have to look at you and it’s all over, but the cheering.”

Napoleon pushed himself off the bed and walked to the bathroom. He cleaned up, then brought a washcloth for Illya.  The Russian was reading a sheet of paper.  “What’s that?  A summons because we are disturbing the natives?”

“Now, a notice that at four this afternoon, Santa would be arriving and that there would then be carols and seasonal treats in the lobby for the guests.”

“Well, it’s not the Ritz or Radio Music Hall, but when in Rome or Hawaii, in this case.” Napoleon exchanged the washcloth for the flyer.  “I’m game, if you are.”

“But it’s at four, what shall we do to pass the time?”

Napoleon’s answering smile was sly. “Bathtub’s big enough for two.”

“Maybe first a nap, though.” Illya yawned.  “This vacationing is hard work.”

****

Napoleon got the last button on his shirt down up just as they hit the bottom floor. “It’s a shame that we never got that bath.”  He climbed the stairs in lieu of using the elevator.  It seemed a waste to go up just one flight.  The upper staircase was block by curtains and a hotel employee gestured them up the ramp instead. “I wonder what’s going on there.’

“We still have a few days here, Napoleon. I’m sure we will eventually.  Maybe it’s a private party or something.”  Illya was hot on his heels.   The lobby had several people, many with children, crowded around.   “I didn’t think… I bet these are the children of the employees, too.”

“That makes sense. They do call this a family hotel.”  Napoleon pointed and walked to the overlook.  The lobby was open to allow the trade winds to blow through.  “Look at that.  There’s Santa.”

“Arriving in a double hulled canoe, makes sense. He’s braver than I am with those waves out there.”

“They say we are in for quite a storm.” The wing gusts were already playing havoc with the pool furniture.”  Glad we made reservations to eat here tonight.”

“It’s a good night to be home, to be sure, _bra_.” An employee said as he passed.  He walked to a pocket door and pulled out a large glass panel.  He slid it along a track in the floor that Napoleon hadn’t even noticed before.

They watched him as he closed off that end of the lobby. By that time, Santa, dressed tropically in a green ‘ _ie_ or _lava-lava,_ a rectangular piece of cloth that could be worn as a skirt by both men and women, several leis and a red stocking hat.  He settled onto his ‘throne’ a peacock chair, trimmed with red anthuriums and ti leaves. 

The children crowded around, some laughing and anxious to get their wishes to jolly old St. Nick, while others held back, faces hidden in the skirts of their mother’s _mu’u’mu’us_.

Napoleon found a comfortable chair set back from the activity and sat. He wanted to let the festivities of the season take him away, but still in the back of his mind, a little voice screamed that this was wrong.  This couldn’t possibly be Christmas.

Illya sat down beside him and held out a candy cane to him. He was already sucking on one of his own. 

“I thought you had to sit on Santa’s knee to get one of these.”

“That’s what you get for not paying attention to what’s going on around you. Cutter would be so disappointed.”

“Cutter can take a flying leap…” Napoleon trailed off as a little girl looked, wide eyed, at him.  “… into Santa’s arms,” he finished.  The little girl hurried back to her mother’s side.

Illya smirked and winked. He sat down and pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket.  “According to this, there’s going to be caroling soon.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask. Are we going to hear fourteen versions of _Mele Kalikimaka_?”

Illya looked from the sheet of paper to Napoleon. “What is wrong, Napoleon?”

“Just no Christmas spirit, I guess. Everything is merry and bright, except me.”  His eye was caught by a parade of women, each wearing a matching _mu’u’mu’u._    They were followed by three men, each carrying a ukulele. 

“I could go down to the restaurant and get some crushed ice and we can have a snowball fight.” Illya leaned closer.  “Or we can go back to our room and think about something else.”

“My thinker’s a little tired right now.”

The women lined up and began to sing, _Hark, the Herald Angels Sing_.  Without meaning to, Napoleon smiled as the familiar words washed over him.

“You want to get closer?” Illya asked.

“Please.”

Without meaning to, within minutes Napoleon was clapping and singing along with a very jolly version of _Here Comes Santa Claus_.  Four very small girls came out and did their best to hula to it.  By now Napoleon was laughing.

The leader singer, who was also the hotel’s concierge, stepped free from the group. “If you will turn your program over, you will see that we have printed the lyrics to our next song so that everyone can sing along.  The tune will be familiar, but the words might just surprise you.”

“A mynah bird in a papaya tree?” Napoleon read. “Dried shrimp?  Eleven missionaries?”

“At least they found something to do with them. Ready?”

Both men were in tears by the time the song was over, as was much of the audience, as they laughed their way through the Hawaiian version of _Twelve Days of Christmas.*_

There were two more songs and then the concierge took the floor again. “As you know, we are in the land of palm trees and sun, but even we can appreciate what our friends on the mainland celebrate so much.” 

She began to sing in a clear voice, “Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful.”

Everyone eventually joined in, then the group started walking, beckoning the crowd to follow. The doors to the conference room were open and inside was an explosion of lights, holiday trimmings, and snow.

“How did they?”

“Brought it down from Mauna Kea,” the concierge answered. “It’s our gift to our friends and family.  I hope you brought your mittens.”

*****

 Napoleon unlocked the door to their room and let Illya proceed him.  “I’ll say one thing, the hotel knows how to throw a party.  I think I’m going to stand here and drip for a minute.  What a storm!” 

“Food in the restaurant was good, too. It’s the first time I’ve have goose with pineapple.”  Illya began to peel off his wet clothes still on the tile floor.  “It worked…”  Illy trailed off as he stepped deeper into the room.  “Napoleon, look at this.”

On the bed were two colorful stockings, bulging at the seams. The TV was tuned into a fireplace and seasonal music.  There was a card announcing that there would be a nondenominational service tomorrow morning for anyone who wished to attend and greetings of the season from the management by way of a large fruit basket.

“I wonder if they do this for all the rooms or just the cabanas.”

“No idea.” Napoleon closed and locked the door.  “Boy, listen to the wind.  That’s quite a storm out there.”

“Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful,” Illya half sang.

“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow,” Napoleon answering, taking his partner in his arms. “Now it feels like Christmas.”  Together they sway to the music playing in their souls and ignored the storm outside, happy, safe, and warm in their love.

 

 

Twelve Days of Christmas – Hawaiian Style*

Numbah One day of Christmas, my tutu give to me One mynah bird in one papaya tree.

Numbah Two day of Christmas, my tutu give to me Two coconut, an' one mynah bird in one papaya tree

Numbah Tree day of Christmas, my tutu give to me Tree dry squid, two coconut, An' one mynah bird in one papaya tree.

Numbah Foah day of Christmas, my tutu give to me Foah flowah lei, tree dry squid, two coconut, An' one mynah bird in one papaya tree.

Numbah Five day of Christmas, my tutu give to me Five beeg fat peeg... foah flowah lei, tree dry squid, two coconut, An' one mynah bird in one papaya tree.

Numbah Seex day of Christmas, my tutu give to me Seex hula lesson, five beeg fat peeg (that make TEN!), Foah flowah lei, tree dry squid, two coconut, An' one mynah bird in one papaya tree.

Numbah Seven day of Christmas, my tutu give to me Seven shrimp a-swimmin', seex hula lesson, Five beeg fat peeg, foah flowah lei, tree dry squid, two coconut, An' one mynah bird in one papaya tree.

Numbah Eight day of Christmas, my tutu give to me Eight ukulele, seven shrimp a-swimmin', seex hula lesson, Five beeg fat peeg (that make TWENNY!), foah flowah lei, tree dry squid, two coconut, An' one mynah bird in one papaya tree.

Numbah Nine day of Christmas, my tutu give to me Nine pound of poi, eight ukulele, seven shrimp a-swimmin', Seex hula lesson, five beeg fat peeg, foah flowah let, tree dry squid, two coconut, An' one mynah bird in one papaya tree.

Numbah Ten day of Christmas, my tutu give to me Ten can of beer, nine pound of poi, eight ukuklele, seven shrimp a-swimmin' Seex hula lesson, five beeg fat peeg, Foah flowah lei, tree dry squid, two coconut, An' one mynah bird in one papaya tree.

Numbah Eleven day of Christmas, my tutu give to me Eleven missionary, ten can of beer, nine pound of poi, Eight ukulele, seven shrimp a-swimmin', seex hula lesson, Five beeg fat peeg, foah flowah lei, tree dry squid, two coconut, An' one mynah bird in one papaya tree.

(Numbah Twelve day of Christmas the bes', and the bes' stuff always come las'...)

Numbah Twelve day of Christmas, my tutu give to me Twelve TELEVISION, eleven missionary, ten can of beer, Nine pound of poi, eight ukulele, seven shrimp a-swimmin', Seex hula lesson, FORTY steenkin' peeg, Foah flowah lei, tree dry squid, two coconut, An' one mynah bird in one papaya tree!

Music and lyrics published by Hawaiian Recording and Publishing Company, Inc., and copyrighted in 1959.

 

 


End file.
